Virtually Clean
by Reo Star
Summary: Thirteen years after
1. It Shouldn't Matter But It Does

**Virtually Clean**  
  
Chapter 1: It Shouldn't Matter (But It Does)  
  
Angel stood up and stretched, letting out a small squeal of pain. His back was sore again. He rubbed the back of his neck, and looked down at the flat spring mattress he had just been sleeping on. If only he had that nice king size, feather top, silk covered bed he had had at Wolfram and Heart Sure they were evil, but hey, evil makes one hell of a comfy bed. At least the Berkles could have given him a frame for his bed. Just because he's dead doesn't mean he can't appreciate the finer side of select mattressing.  
  
Angel grabbed his favorite...err...make that _only_ black tee-shirt, and tugged it with a grunt. The Berkles were either shrinking his clothing, or feeding him too much...he couldn't tell. At last Angel went to the bedroom door, hesitating to turn that handle, just like he had done every night for the last twelve years since the "Awakening".  
  
Angel jumped back as the door swung open and nearly hit him in the face.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry dear." Mrs. Berkle said in her usual pleasant southern accent, as she entered the room carrying a glass filled with a certain red liquid.  
  
Angel remained silent. Mrs. Berkle smiled.  
  
"I thought you'd be up and dressed by now." She patted him on the shoulder. "We were just heading to bed, and I thought I'd bring you your breakfast before we went." She set the glass down on a telephone table next to the door.  
  
"Thank-you." Angel said meekly.  
  
Mrs. Berkle smiled her warmest smile, and it made Angel feel a little less foreign.  
  
"You need to relax, Angel. You've been living with us for twelve years and you still act as though you're just a guest." She crossed to room towards him, and placed a hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. "You're family." She paused. "You became family the moment you became friends with our Fred."  
  
A faint glimpse of sadness passed over her eyes at the thought of her lost daughter; Angel looked away, ashamed. Mrs. Berkle smiled again as the sadness passed, she gave Angel one last pat on the shoulder and left the room with out closing the door.  
  
Angel stood a moment, thinking.  
  
'Has it really been twelve years?' His mind could barely comprehend it. Sure he has been a live for almost...well, heh, for a long time; longer then he'd like to think. But these last few years had seemed to have gone by so quickly.  
  
Angel thought back as he grabbed his glass of bodily fluid. He thought back all the way to the day they had all faced Wolfram and Heart.  
  
Behind the alley. That...that was thirteen years ago. His memories of the battle had been distorted, only fragments remained. But then again, everyone who was there had a Swiss-cheesed memory. It was the magic...the magic that had won them the battle. The only coast was their memory.  
  
Angel leaned against the telephone table as he thought, arms crossed, taking periodic sips of his breakfast. He remembered the alley. He met Spike first, then Gunn...Illeria, sans Wesley. No he was gone. No Lorne either, though he never really blamed Lorne; it just wasn't his line of work...and after what he had Lorne do? No Angel expected as much. He remembered seeing the army of baddies advancing upon them, but from there all that remained was bits and pieces. Like single photographs in no specific order, with out any realization of why things happed. He felt like an on looker, almost like he was not even in the battle. He did remember a dragon...and he remembers getting an unusually high sense of satisfaction out of slaying it...but that's about it.  
  
There were feelings. Feelings of determination, fear, helplessness, and...even...jealousy? Yes it was true. Angel was a tad jealous...and perhaps a little annoyed. And now he remembered why. He hadn't forgotten because of the magic, no he forgot this because he tried not to think about it. He remembered after the battle, he remembered the world being saved, and he remembered that he hadn't done it. Spike did.  
  
Spike had saved the day, a job Angel usually took great care to insure he got, and if he may say so, did a damn good job of it. Yes, yes, Angel was glad that good had triumphed, and he knew it shouldn't matter who did the saving...but God Dammit, did it have to be _Spike_?  
  
So _Spike_ had fulfilled the prophesy, _Spike_ had a soul, _Spike_ was the hero, and worst of all, _Spike_ was human. That meant that his heart was beating, all his sins of the past were gone from his soul, he had a chance to escape hell, and he could have offspring. Ugg, great! Just what the world needs, more William the Bloodies running around.  
  
That last thought had disturbed him a bit, so much in fact, that Angel decided to go for a walk.  
  
Anywhere else in the world, and Angel would not feel safe walking alone at night, at least not since the Awakening. And how long had it been since that? Ten...eleven...twelve years? Twelve, that was it. Twelve years since Angel had left L.A., since he had left...since he had left a certain blonde person whose name he wishes to keep out of his thoughts at the moment.  
  
Angel sighed as he thought about the Awakening. It wouldn't have been a bad thing if people were understanding creatures, but the truth was that they weren't. Demons and vamps had kept themselves from the public eye for a good reason...but now...that was all over. Sure the government and certain individuals of power knew about the things that go bump in the night, but the general public didn't. And that's where all the trouble came in. Humans demanded protection from the government, and some radicals formed militias, and began hunting demons and vamps....only they didn't fight just the evil ones, but the harmless ones too. Now everything was separate, meaning segregation. Clubs, restaurants, and businesses had posted signs that read "human's only." Demons have separate bathrooms, drinking fountains...it's like the pre-Martin Luther King years all over again.  
  
There are Demon rights groups scattered all over the globe, the strongest being D.A.P.T. [Demons Are People Too]. Angel sent in a bit of money to them every now and then, mostly with demons like Lorne in mind. God knows what the Awakening did to him.  
  
Of course for every good, there is an evil. That evil just so happens to be located in L.A., right where the old Wolfram and Heart building was. Evil's name? H.A.D.E. Humans Against the Demonic Evils. The organization is headed by some radical who doesn't care about who's good or evil, but instead wants to "Smoke 'em All" as their slogan so patriotically reads.  
  
That's why Angel came to live with the Berkles. Their place is in a rural under populated area...and the Berkles are friends. He came to them twelve years ago, upon the suggestion of he-who-will-not-be-mentioned. Angel needed to see them anyway. He couldn't let them go on thinking that Fred was alive. So he told them. They cried, Angel cried...it was all very emotional. Still, the Berkles welcomed Angel into their home, and here he still remains.  
  
Angel turned his thought from the nasty memories of the resent past, and to the happier ones of the first few months he had gained control of Wolfram and Heart. Everyone was ecstatic. A chance to do some full-throttle damage...in a good way, of course. Angel wanted to save the world...and thought _he_ would.  
  
Of course the world was saved...just not by _him_....Wolfram and Heart had been vanquished...just not by _him_....there was a hero....it just wasn't _him_....it was, quite painfully, _Spike_.  
  
Angel grew angered with him self.  
  
"It shouldn't matter." He said, scolding his own non-beating heart.  
  
He walked on quietly. Then, to himself in a more meek voice, he mumbled "...but it does." 


	2. Lucky Bastard

Virtually Clean  
  
Chapter 2: Lucky Bastard  
  
Charles Gun was rudely awoken by the ringing of his telephone. Ok, ok....so he WAS sleeping on his desk, and now he found a slimy puddle of drool to great him. Gunn wiped the wet from his chin in disgust. Meanwhile, the phone was still ringing. Gunn rubbed his eyes and groaned.  
  
"Alright, alright...I'm here!" He picked up the phone, and grumbled angrily into it. "What?!"  
  
Gunn listen patiently...but he wasn't really interested...he wasn't hearing anything new. So H.A.D.E. had taken in a few more members, big deal? They did that everyday. It wasn't until he heard who they had that he became concerned.  
  
"Lorne, AND Charlotte?" he was stunned, both his top members taken in...again! He knew he should separate the two...to avoid this kind of thing...but he also knew he wouldn't. Truth was...they were stronger together.  
  
Gunn hung up the phone, he rubbed his temples in silence for a moment. "SHIT!"  
  
It was time to go to work. Gunn picked up his phone, and called his secretary. "Joss? Yeah, Lorne and Charlotte have been taken in by H.A.D.E...."  
  
"Again?" A small female voice said on the other end.  
  
"Yeah, you know the drill....make a deal with the soulless bastard that runs the place." Gunn hung up the phone, and walked over to the windows of his large office. The city skyline looked beautiful at night, Chicago really was quite a pretty town.  
  
Chicago...Gunn could hardly believe where he was. Everyone he knew left him after the Awakening, everyone took sides...and Gunn found that most of the people he knew weren't on his. That's when he moved to Chicago and started this organization. At first it was just a few disorganized protesters...but Gunn got them into shape. Now they were a finely oiled, demon rights, protesting machine.  
  
Yes, it was true. Gunn was the founder of D.A.P.T., he's been running the show and calling the shots for twelve years, keeping friends like Lorne and Angel in mind.  
  
Angel. Gunn worried about him. He has seen first hand the changes the Awakening had brought on his on-time fellow evil fighters. It wasn't pretty.  
  
Gunn sighed and looked at his feet. There was only two things that could ruin the serenity of that night. One, which had already happened, was his two top members being captured by H.A.D.E., and the other was happening now, thinking about the fact that the 'soulless bastard' that ran the evil company that put them there, was Spike.  
  
Spike. First he saves the world, then he feeds it violence. Gunn didn't' get it...and supposed he never would. Everyone had changed, though Spike? No real big surprise there. It was Lorne that had Gunn worried. Since he joined D.A.P.T. Lorne had become...well...broody. No more degrading yet some how cute pet names, no more singing...he's become more like Angel then anybody else. It was really starting to bother Gunn quite a bit.  
  
If this Awakening could have such a large impact on some one like Lorne, what would it do to Angel?  
  
Of course it did help that Angel probably wasn't aware of Spike's "position".  
  
"Excuse me, Charles?" Gunn turned around, before him stood his very blonde secretary. "Just like to let you know...we made a deal...Lorne and Charlotte are being released within the next twenty four hours."  
  
Gunn nodded. "Make sure that they are."  
  
Gunn would very much like to be with them, helping them...but he was needed in the office. He suddenly understood how Angel felt at the head of Wolfram and Heart. It was torture, not always being able to be out on the streets. But he knew he was playing a much needed role here. Besides he had Lorne and Charlotte on the New York front, his most important one, and they were very dependable.  
  
Gunn looked up to the sky from his window, and he thought about Wesley. 'Lucky bastard.' Gunn smirked, and for a moment he was happy, completely happy...and for almost no reason at all.  
  
We thought about that moment when all of them faced Wolfram and Heart...they were a team...and although he couldn't remember much about that fight, he did remember feeling as though he were a part of something, he hadn't cared if they won or lost...even if they had all died in that fight at least they would've known that they had tried.  
  
Then a dark thought crossed his mind, perhaps...it would have been better if...they had all died...  
  
Gunn looked up at the sky again, a more somber look in his eyes. "Lucky bastard...." he whispered. 


	3. Where Are YouWesley?

**_Virtually Clean_**  
  
Chapter 3: Where Are You...Wesley?  
  
Illyria sat up slowly, an almost happy look in her eyes...it disappeared in an instant. She had to face another day in this world ran by mere humans, and what's worse...she practically was one. The door to her room opened rather suddenly...it was Spike. She hated how he came and went as he pleased, in her time anyone who dared to enter her personal quarters with out her permission would have been swiftly executed.  
  
The reason Spike was not killed or at least given a severe beating...was because technically she was _his _guest...though she refused to recognize the situation as such. There was also another reason...something she had tried to keep from Spike and he, being the good sport that he was, pretended not to know....the reason was that she had lost her powers. All her powers...well...most her powers. She was now not much stronger then Spike him self...fighting him her chances were 50/50. How she hated it.  
  
"You're up then?" he said revoltingly cheerfully. Illyria stared at him, annoyed. "Right." Spike said in response to her silence.  
  
"You know...you've been living with me for, what? Thirteen years now? The least ya could do is say 'ello to me in the morning." Illyria stared at him blankly, caring...but certainly not willing to show it. She was already mad at her self for grieving over her guide, Wesley.  
  
That was another thing...emotion. Since her power had been stripped from her, she had begun to lose control over her own emotions. She even caught herself laughing at a stupid joke Spike was telling a secretary. It was terrible. She had since become quite good at hiding her emotions...but she couldn't stop feeling them. It was very disappointing.  
  
"You just going to sit there then? Like some bloody statue?" Spike walked toward her.  
  
"Leave me alone." Illyria snapped at him. Spike sighed and left. Illyria wasn't really glad to be alone...she actually liked having Spike around...which bothered her to no end. To think she, Illyria, needed company! The very idea was absurd!  
  
It had all started that day...the day she lied to Wesley...the day he died. She missed him...very much...and that bothered her, but it began to bother her less and less, which also bothered her. It was all very disturbing. She found herself thinking about Wesley...more now then ever before.  
  
Somewhere...deep inside her shell...a piece of her former glory was alive...she could feel it. It told her that Wesley would be back...very soon.  
  
Illyria looked out the window of her room...when the building was the Wolfram and Heart law firm...her room used to be Wesley's office. Spike did that on purpose. Illyria knew that much. He had done that for her. At first she thought it might be pity...she hotly protested. She knows differently now, having a better understanding in the ways of humans. Spike liked her. He thought of her as more then an ally, but as a friend and companion, and she (though she denied it) considered the same of him.  
  
Illyria walked into the little bathroom attached to her room, and glanced at her self in the mirror. It was time to put on her 'makeup'. Since the Awakening, and the loss of her powers, she has become vulnerable. In order to protect herself she began to transform herself into Fred. Only Spike was aware of Illyria's true form. He was the only member of H.A.D.E. who would understand. That was something the puzzled her. Spike's involvement in H.A.D.E. While she didn't really care whose side who was on, she still questioned why Spike suddenly abandoned his former life, and lead the fight against the freedom he once so avidly fought for.  
  
Illyria pushed this thought away. It was of no consequence to her. Things like that didn't seem to matter so much. She mostly thought about Wesley...lovely...sweet...huh?  
  
Illyria found herself using words she barely understood to describe her guide. Why should she feel this way? It was a weakness. A weakness she was bent on fixing.  
  
In the mean time...Illyria had her daily observations to make. Even though she had been awake for a little over thirteen years, she was still constantly studying the ways of humans. She found her Fred 'shell' to be particularly helpful in this.  
  
"Good morning, Fred!" A smiling dark headed woman said to Illyria as they crossed paths in the hall.  
  
"Oh, Good morning." She responded, in the voice of the perky Fred.  
  
Illyria was intent on studying Spike. In the Thirteen years she had known him, he had kept her always just out of touch. He didn't really like her studying him.  
  
"Morning boss." She smiled as she entered Spike's office.  
  
"Don't bother, I'm alone." Spike said as he read a news paper.  
  
"Good." Illyria reverted back to her usual arrogant tone. She took a few steps in and closed the door behind her.  
  
"So, what is it you want?" Spike never lifted his eyes from his paper.  
  
"I wish to study you."  
  
"Forget it." Spike set down the paper. "Not gunna happen."  
  
Illyria was annoyed by his dismissive tone. "You do not dictate my actions. Were I restored to my former glory--"  
  
"Yeah, well you're not. So come off it." Spike picked up his paper again. "You're not center of the bloody universe."  
  
Illyria took in a deep breath and leered down upon her blonde colleague. "I am leaving." She paused. "I do so because I wish to."  
  
"Sure, whatever you need to tell yourself, love." Spike smirked to himself.  
  
Bastard. But it was true, she did wish to leave, but not for any reason she'd admit; not even to herself. She wanted to think more about Wesley. He kept popping into her thoughts, and it wasn't just because of whatever little feelings she may have had for him. It was also because something....big...was happening. She could sense it, and Wesley was directly involved.  
  
Illyria went back to her room, feeling the need to shed her...um...Fred. She stood before her window for the second time this morning and thought, again, about Wesley.  
  
"You're here..." She mumbled quietly to herself.  
  
She looked down at the street below, and at the people who looked like ants [which she thought was very appropriate].  
  
"Where are you..."  
  
"...Wesley?" 


	4. The Transformation

Virtually Clean  
  
Chapter 4: The Transformation  
  
So he had been captured by H.A.D.E., what else was new? It's not like he hasn't been there before. That's what he signed on for right? The fight, the pain...the horribly bad uniforms...all part of the job.  
  
Lorne pushed himself out of his very uncomfortable cot, and walked to the bathroom. He barely recognized the demon staring back him. The unusually shaggy hair...the white undershirt...God, he never thought he'd ever be caught in one of those. But what surprised him most were the muscles. He, Lorne, the "stay at home and keep an eye on things while Angel and the others went to fight the baddies" guy...had...muscle? It was true...but after twelve years of protesting, fighting and a total of four years time spent in the holding cells of H.A.D.E....it was expected.  
  
Lorne leaned close to the mirror.  
  
"Now where did you go?" Lorne forced a smile, and laughed a little. "Ah, there you are..." He smirked at his own little musing, and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't particularly like the look...but he always managed to forget to cut it for months at a time. As a result he sort of looked like that kid from Terminator two.  
  
As he left the bathroom, Lorne picked up his jacket. He had some serious protesting to do at city hall this morning, they had just declared the building a 'humans only' building. He and Charlotte had to stay at the front...they'd most likely be picked up by Spike's (or "William's" as he was now calling himself, guess it sounded more human) little soldier boys.  
  
Lorne had sworn he'd never get back into this kind of life, swore he'd never put himself in the 'good vs. evil' situation. But here he was trading in his bright, colorful suits for a black jacket with an arm patch that read 'D.A.P.T.' across it. Here he was getting ready to do battle.  
  
A few years ago Lorne had come to the realization that once you had led the life, you could never really get out of it, now matter how large or small your involvement. The truth was, this whole D.A.P.T. thing fell into his lab...almost literally....  
  
Lorne had been working in Vegas, having a much better experience with out an evil manager trying to steal others futures. For the first year, everything was perfect. Lorne was cranking out six or seven shows a night, the place was always packed...and he always had a superbly mixed sea breeze in his hand. God, how he would KILL for a sea breeze. After the Awakening, people stopped showing up, and eventually he was fired. Lorne couldn't get work anywhere in Vegas after H.A.D.E. opened an office there, and he didn't want to go back to L.A., though he missed the place terribly. Instead, he completely the opposite way. New York. The flight in was great. It was, of course, a demons only flight. When the airline first started separating demons and humans, the refused to allow demons to learn to fly...in fear of possible terrorism. Unfortunately...the human pilots on the demon flights were either killed by a rouge vamp, or committed suicide mid-flight. So now the 'demons only' flights were really ONLY demons. Never the less the flight HAD been great. Lorne was relentlessly optimistic, and had an overwhelming urge to sing New York, New York...so...he did. By the end of the flight, he had the whole damn plane singing...even the pilot. It was the last time he would ever feel that happy again.  
  
After arriving in New York, Lorne had bought a piece of real-estate and opened a club. The first month was easy enough...only he couldn't have the place protected, not since the use of spells, and other such magics had been outlawed. But the crowd wasn't very rowdy, besides it was all demon anyway...no human would dare step foot in there.  
  
It was just after the first month that things went bad. The club was just hitting it's peek hours for the night, and a large group from D.A.P.T. was there celebrating a successful protest, when all of a sudden there were gun shots, and shouting...and at least one hundred H.A.D.E. soldiers came bursting into the club. Lorne scrambled for safety behind the bar, that's where he met Charlotte.  
  
That's the same day he joined. He didn't really participate much at first, but after a raid had landed him in the holding cells...Lorne began his transformation.  
  
And what a transformation it was. But as Lorne walked to city hall, Charlotte beside him and about fifty other members of D.A.P.T. behind them...he began to wish he had the old Lorne back. The old Lorne, who was quick with a corny little joke and a smile, who called people 'crumb cake' and 'sugar'...he missed all of that...  
  
...even as he shouted and screamed before the steps of the City Hall, even as he raised his fists and demanded...even as he was drug away by Spike's foot soldiers, and even after being beaten and thrown into the tormenting holding cells....he wished he could go back...wished he had never gotten into that limo outside the hotel...he wished he had said no to Angel...he wished...  
  
...he wished he could see them all again. 


	5. A Bloody Puppet

Virtually Clean  
  
Chapter 5: A Bloody Puppet  
  
Author's Note: Hey, thanks to all of you who have been reading and reviewing my work. I love getting input from fellow fans.  
  
Before moving on to the following chapter, I would like to give you a few teasers of up coming chapters.  
  
I have received a few reviews requesting the re-introduction of Lindsey....and I have every intention of doing so. It may take a while for me to get the chapter up with his introduction, due to the fact that I wish to study his character a bit better. I take pride in trying to stay as close to the original characters' personalities as possible, and justifying any unusual behavior on their part.  
  
I have also received requests for B/A....and I think I can work it into the story line, I do want to include so of our friends from BTVS, however...this story is not a romantic piece. I'd like to be able to keep as true to J.W.'s writing style as possible. Naturally the drama with have to be their, but keeping in line with the final episode, I'd like this to focus more on the importance of the struggle, and the determination of our beloved characters. In short, romance will play a minor roll.  
  
Anywho, thanks for all your reviews, I truly enjoy every one of them.  
  
Enjoy!  
  
As he watched Illyria leave his office, Spike began to feel a bit guilty. He shouldn't have snapped at her like that, but this job...it was really getting to him. He hated what he had become. A bloody puppet---and not the cute and felt-y kind either. H.A.D.E.--why? Why had he agreed? He suddenly became aware of the conflicts Angel had felt running Wolfram and Heart. After all, he was in the same situation.  
  
H.A.D.E. wasn't all bad, not when it first started...that was about ten years or so ago, after he had sent Angel away. Back then Spike was just a grunt man. Doing all the dirty work, fighting off the baddies and such. His heroic actions reached a sort of legendary status, and the government soon caught wind of his little exploits. That's when they made the deal with him.  
  
It was early. Sunrise. Spike was sitting on the roof of his apartment building watching the sun come up, as he had done every morning since he became human. He'd never again take that warmth and light for granted. Two men, both in black, walked up to him. They sat on either side, and stared out at the city for almost an hour before they finally said to him,  
  
"You left your pants in the bathroom again."  
  
Spike shook himself awake. Standing in his doorway was Wendy--a six foot muscular blonde, and the meanest wench Spike had ever laid eyes on.  
  
"Did I?" Spike asked, trying to sound smug, but not entirely having the effect he was hoping for.  
  
Wendy scrunched her thin red lips and cocked a thin wormy eyebrow.  
  
"Why do you keep doing that? The head of the company leaving his dirty laundry in the ladies bathroom."  
  
Spike turned his chair, and glared at her.  
  
"Well, I suppose there's just no teaching me."  
  
Wendy walked up to Spike's desk, pants in hand, and leaned over...spilling a grotesque amount of cleavage before his eyes.  
  
"Maybe I'll just have to give you a spanking."  
  
Spike smirked and leaned in close to her.  
  
"Well, what are you waiting for, love? Let's have at her."  
  
Wendy, rolling her eyes, backs away. She throws the pants at Spike, who laughs, and walks toward the door.  
  
"Listen, William, if you want to keep your little vampire friend out of danger...you'll do as you are told."  
  
Wendy leaves, and slams the door behind her.  
  
"A bloody, puppet." Spike mumbles to himself.  
  
Today had been shit. Lorne and Charlotte had been picked up again. No matter how many times he tries to keep them out of it, they keep getting sucked back in. There was no doubt that Gunn and the others thought the worst of him, but he couldn't tell them or...  
  
As much as it pained him to admit it, he did care. About Angel that is. He had known the guy for over two hundred years...when you know someone that long...you can't help but get attached. Besides, Spike did have a little headway, not much, but enough to edge his way in and gain a bet of ground.  
  
He never would have agreed to this job if it hadn't started out good. He thought he'd start out on the right side for once, he'd actually get the chance to fight, to make a real difference. At the time he thought it must have been the same feeling Angel felt when he first took control of the long gone L.A. Law firm.  
  
Everything had felt right. For the first time in two centuries, he had gone back to being William. He couldn't very well be the head of an anti- demon organization with Spike's history hanging over his head. So he became William, at least to the public. They all saw him as the handsome hopeless romantic poet of his human life. Hell, he had even been named this years 'most eligible bachelor,' although rumors questioning his sexual orientation had been released.  
  
Of course the government became involved, and H.A.D.E. stopped hunting only the evil demons, but began killing off the harmless ones too. Spike had protested, but they threatened to kill Angel...and their force would have been to strong. Not even the great Angel could have taken them all down. So here he remained.  
  
Spike let his head fall to the desk and when he pulled it back up, was horrified to find Wendy standing before him. She had a gift bag in her hand.  
  
"And what do you want? Change your mind about that spanking, have we?"  
  
Wendy smirked. "You wish." She put the bag on Spike's desk. "A gift, for you."  
  
"Aww, you remembered my birthday. How thoughtful of you." Spike said sarcastically.  
  
Wendy turned and headed for the door, while Spike opened the bag. He reached in and pulled out a little finger puppet made to look like himself.  
  
"Happy Birthday, Boss." Wendy said as she left the office. Spike threw the puppet at the door as she closed it.  
  
He plopped back in his chair and sighed.  
  
"A bloody puppet." 


	6. Resurrection With a Side of Rice

Virtually Clean  
  
Chapter 6: Resurrection With a Side of Rice  
  
Somewhere deep in the heart of L.A., a group of vampires circled a young woman. They forced her into an alley, each one with devilish grins on their faces.  
  
"What's the matter sweet heart? We won't bite." A tall blonde vamp asks, as he approaches her. "Oh wait- Yes we will."  
  
Their jokes were almost as bad as their intentions for the young lady.  
  
The blonde moves in, just about to sink his teeth into her slender neck. He could feel her heart beating, smell the fear pouring from her in the form of a thick cold sweat. The blood pumping in her veins called to him, his primal urges and beast like huger drove him closer, and closer until...  
  
"Oh, fuck."  
  
But it was too late.  
  
He had been hit.  
  
His friends scattered and the woman remained pressed against a dumpster, panting and starring cautiously at the large ball of light that had hit her aggressor. She noticed that the blonde vamp was sizzling underneath the light, and eventually he burst into a cloud of dust. This unexpected, but somewhat welcome, explosion made the woman jump a bit. Then a very peculiar thing happened. The light began to move.  
  
At first there was no real pattern to the movement, but as she watched the woman realized it was taking on a shape.  
  
"Excuse me miss, but cloud you tell me where I am?" The woman's eyes bulged upon hearing the light talk, and with an English accent no less. After a few quick gasps for air the woman began to crawl slowly away and then ran as fast as she could, not taking the time to look back.  
  
"Well, that wasn't very helpful." Wesley said to himself as he watched the woman ran off.  
  
He really did want to know where he was. He couldn't quite remember. Of course he supposed that would all come back to him soon enough, after all they had told him there might be a bit of memory loss. Hadn't that happened to Cordy at one point in time. Ah, but she hadn't died, she was just a higher being. Never the less, Wesley did hope he remembered something soon. He could even remember why he had come back.  
  
"Well, at least I know who I am." He said, trying to sound optimistic but not really feeling it.  
  
"Now, let's see..." Wesley turned toward the street in front of the alley. "Ah, here we are."  
  
He walked along the side walk, going over everything in his head, trying to put the missing pieces together. He remembered all of his friends, Angel, Gunn, Lorne...and...Fred. There was something about Fred...what was it? He couldn't remember, but he knew it was something important. Ah well, he'd figure it out sooner or later. Perhaps he could ask her when he saw her, if he could remember where exactly she was living.  
  
Angel...Angel...Angel...there was something about--  
  
"Of course!" Wesley looked around quickly, realizing he was speaking aloud. Fortunately, the only one who heard him was a blind homeless man. He did have to be a bit more careful about things. Just because he was an angel didn't mean--  
  
--Oh, that's it. Angel...he's living with Fred's parents, because of the Awakening. At least he had remembered something. Oh, and he was beginning to remember something else, something he hadn't had to think about in thirteen years....his stomach.  
  
The large owner of the over Americanized Chinese restaurant looked up as Wesley entered. It was almost closing time, the last thing he wanted was a late night customer.  
  
"Can I help you?" He said in a rather gruff voice as Wesley sat down.  
  
Wesley spoke a bit nervously, but managed to spit out the word 'rice'.  
  
Now where was he. Oh yes, the reason why he was here...where ever here happened to be. Then, it hit him, so hard in fact he nearly fell over in his stool.  
  
"Oh my God!" That remark got his rice bowl practically thrown at him, and a very suspicious look from the tubby owner.  
  
As Wesley struggled with his chopsticks, he slowly began to piece together his Swiss-cheesed memory. There was a temple. Here, in California. But what city? And why was it so important? Something about the future, about time...and the initials A.H. and P.D. But what did it mean?  
  
Becoming very frustrated with himself, Wesley began to throw his chopsticks angrily into his bowl and just as angrily into his mouth. Not caring or noticing whether or not he was actually picking anything up. Then, suddenly...he stopped. There was a name. He was not alone. He wasn't the only person to be brought back. The name....  
  
Lindsey.  
  
But what part would he play? Good? Evil? Wesley guessed evil; he didn't exactly trust Lindsey. He had to get to Angel, after all isn't that why he came to L.A.?  
  
"L.A.?" Wesley thought out loud. That wasn't why he came to L.A...Angel was no where near L.A. Then why did he come?  
  
But the answer was obvious, she was here. Fred. But he didn't know where she was, and she wasn't exactly a top priority. He had to find his less human friends first, they were in the most danger. Because he didn't know where anyone else was, Wesley knew he had to go to Angel; even if it meant putting off his little Fred search party. Besides, Angel could probably tell him what it was about Fred he had forgotten...  
  
So yes, it was all decided. Wesley would leave to retrieve Angel immediately....but first...  
  
"More rice, please!" 


	7. A Rude Awakening

Virtually Clean

Chapter 7: A Rude Awakening

No ball of light fell from the sky, no heavenly sight was to be seen in the dank alley way.

Only the dark glow of hell.

Black flames shot into the air and painful screams filled the night as his body began to form. For a few moments the gates of hell were opened in the streets, all manner of evil tried to escape, but only one was to awaken this night.

Lindsey looked around him, bewildered. He wandered dumbly into the street, not recognizing the city. People starred at him, and whispered things to each other as they passed. Confused, Lindsey entered a near by coffee shop and sat down, attempting to make sense of what just happened.

He had been in hell, he knew that much. But what was he doing here, back on earth...and alive? So many thoughts and jumbled memories were swimming around in his head, it hurt. He didn't know where he was, it wasn't L.A. that was for sure.

"L.A.?" he asked himself. Was he really from L.A.? Suddenly it became abundantly clear that he couldn't remember anything about his own life, not even his own identity. All he had was a fuzzy image of his death. He had been shot. But by who? Why was he killed? It was all too much for him to take. He began to feel hot, sick, tired, dizzy all at once. A waitress walked toward him, concerned.

"Monsieur, êtes-vous bien ?"

Lindsey looked at her confused. "What?"

She ignored his question and continued to talk to him, he couldn't understand a word she was saying.

Frustrated and tired, Lindsey waved his hands at her.

"No, No. I don't understand. Do-Do you speak English?"

The woman paused and thought for a moment, then began to speak in very broken English.

"Y-Yes." she paused and thought hard. " peu-um little, little."

Lindsey nodded. He couldn't speak...what ever the hell it was she was using, but if she could speak a bit of English he might be able to find out where he was and possibly find a place to stay.

"Where-am-I?" he asked very slowly.

"Um, Cafe" She pointed to the sign in the window.

Lindsey shook his head. "No, I mean. Where, um...what country?"

The woman nodded her head to show that she understood, then creased her eyebrows in deep thought.

"You, in..Paris? Yeah. yes. Paris?"

"Thank you..um..merci." Lindsey waved a hand, and the woman left.

France? Why in hell was he in France? He didn't remember dying in France, but then again he didn't remember much of anything. Lindsey sighed and left the cafe with out ordering.

As he walked down the street searching for a hotel, he was pleased to find he had a wallet, and money. Quite a bit of it actually. He glanced at his driver's license, well, at least now he knew his name, and that he wasn't crazy. He was from L.A.

He also found a business card, a rather old one.

"Hmm, Angel investigations?" Lindsey studied it. There was an address, and a name; Wesley W. Pryce. Perhaps it had been someone he knew.

Lindsey was lucky enough to find a hotel, where most of the staff spoke English. He was even luckier to find that he was very close to the Paris airport.

Now he was sitting up in his bed, covered in a thick sweat. All he had seen were the eyes. Those burning red, evil eyes. He didn't see the gun, he didn't see a face just the eyes, before...before he had heard the gunshot and woke up screaming.


End file.
